‘Then we shouldn’t leave her down there on her own any longer, or she might go.’
I let her lead the way downstairs and followed her into the dining room. Our guest was still there, but most of her starter wasn’t. ‘I’m sorry, Ali,’ I told her. ‘Our little domestic is over. She can speak whatever bloody language she likes from now on.’ I leaned over and kissed her: in front of the child, a first.
‘I might as well tell you now,’ she said cheerfully, ‘while you two catch up.’ I nodded, with a chunk of bread and anchovy in my hand.
‘In order,’ she continued, ‘those three names meant nothing to our potential witness. However, Brian did find that same photocopy in McCann’s room. Also, Stevie traced our Mr Telfer. He lives in Newhaven, he’s a single man like Weir and McCann, he does subscribe to that magazine, by mail order, he works for Shell Exploration, and he is currently on one of their platforms in the Brent field, north-east of Shetland, where he’s scheduled to remain until the end of June.’
‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘It means he can’t do a runner when we go to interview him, unless he’s some swimmer. Do you like helicopters?’ I asked. ‘Personally, I do not, but we can’t wait for him to come onshore.’
‘I’ve never been on one,’ she admitted, ‘but needs must. I wonder if they have newspapers delivered out there.’
I caught on. ‘And if he knows about his two pals? If he does, he might be very pleased to see us.’
‘Can’t he come to you?’ Alex chipped in.
‘He’s only a witness,’ I explained, ‘not a suspect. We’ve got no cause to haul him off his platform if he doesn’t want to come.’
Because of the hiatus, the chicken was a little stringy and the vegetables were too steamed, but I was the only one who complained, and since it was my fault anyway, tough on me.
When we were finished and the dishwasher was stacked, Alex went off to her room to watch a TV serial she’d been following, or maybe she was simply being discreet.
‘Want some music?’ I asked.
‘Mmm.’
I dug out an Elvis Costello hits CD and put it on. The first track was called ‘Alison’. I’ve still got the CD, but I never play that song any more, even though it’s still my favourite by either Elvis. Aileen did once, last year, and I had to explain why there were tears in my eyes.
I sat in my armchair and my Alison sat on me, folded in my lap. She wasn’t wearing shoes. I took her foot in my hand, and began to massage it, very gently. ‘Saw this movie with Myra,’ I murmured, ‘when we were both about eighteen. It was called Stay Hungry. It’s best known today for being one of Arnie Schwarzenegger’s first, but there’s a scene in it where Jeff Bridges and Sally Field are sitting on a staircase and he takes her foot, just like this, and starts talking to her about what a wonderful piece of architecture it is, and…’ I kissed her, ‘… it goes on from there. I wish I could remember the dialogue.’
‘You’re doing all right ad-libbing,’ she purred, then gasped as I reached the soft area at the back of her toes. ‘It obviously made a big impression on you.’
‘And on Myra. She slipped her shoe off, right there in the cinema, and planked her foot in my lap.’
‘We must see if we can find it on video.’ She put her head on my shoulder. ‘What do I give you, Bob?’
It took me a couple of minutes to find what I hoped were the right words. ‘Peace, companionship and good, friendly sex.’
‘Friendly? How about great?’
‘That too, but friendly’s just as important. You set your expectations there, so that when you get to great it’s all the greater.’
She laughed, softly. ‘You talk some real mince sometimes.’
‘I know. I’m more of an action man. So? What do I give you?’
‘You make me feel… not alone. You make me feel good about myself. You give me… as much as a girl could reasonably hope for. But…’
‘Yeah, there’s always a but.’
‘But…’ she continued, ‘there’s still a part of you that’s locked away, a part of you that I’ll never reach. The woman who does. .. she’ll see me off, for she’ll be the one for you. For now, though, there’s one other thing you make me feel and that’s happy. Take it as it comes?’
I nodded. The night before was the past, boxed up, and it could stay there, among my other dark secrets. ‘Deal. We take it as it comes.’
Next morning Alex was up first; we were under no pressure, for we had a call to make on the way into Edinburgh. I waited until the commuter traffic had tailed off before we left. We had talked no shop all morning, but as we passed through Aberlady, Alison raised something that had been on my mind. ‘With everything that’s happening in this investigation,’ she said, ‘I hope we’re all right for sailing this weekend.’
‘Me too,’ I confessed. ‘I’ve got two of them on the go, remember; twice the risk. Thornie’s funeral is sacrosanct. Whatever happens, we will be there. For the rest, we keep our fingers crossed.’
‘But if I have to go offshore to interview this man Telfer…’
‘It’s not just you, it’s the two of us; we’re both going. But I reckon he’ll keep till Monday. Have someone contact the platform operator… Shell, wasn’t it… and make arrangements for us to fly out then. Telfer doesn’t need to know we’re coming either.’
‘But don’t all the platform communications go through him?’ she pointed out.
‘If they do, and Shell play ball, we’ll spin him a line. We can tell him it’s an equipment inspection.’
‘That sounds okay.’ She paused. ‘But Bob, if something else comes up, there’s no need for me to be at the funeral.’
‘I’d like you to be there, come what may.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked. ‘We’ll have to leave our whereabouts with the office. Won’t it be a bit like putting a notice about you and me on the bulletin board?’
‘I’ve already told Fred Leggat where I’ll be going, but you could always tell your troops you’re taking personal time, and leave it at that. That wouldn’t be a lie.’
‘Brian Mackie knows us both. He’ll figure it out for sure.’
I laughed. ‘Ali, I don’t care. When we get into town I’m going to drop you right at the front door of your office, and kiss you farewell. I’m done with furtive. We are as we are.’
We drove on, joining the A1 dual carriageway and heading towards Edinburgh. We were caught up in a short tailback, at the end, but we left it when we took the roundabout outlet that led to the B amp;Q store. Given the time of the morning, the place was a customer-free zone. There was a customer service point just inside the entrance. Alison approached the woman on duty; they had a brief conversation and I saw her show her warrant card, before the loudspeakers boomed, ‘Robert Wyllie to customer desk, please. Robert Wyllie to customer desk.’
Staff discipline must have been good, for only seconds passed before I saw him appear at the far end of an aisle. He saw me too, and stopped in his tracks. I shook my head, smiled and beckoned him on.
‘What now?’ he sighed, as he approached. ‘You folk never let go. What are you going to charge me with this time?’
‘Nothing,’ said Alison, affably. ‘Another couple of questions, Mr Wyllie, that’s all.’
‘About what?’
‘That would be whom. Do you know, or know of, a man called Donald Telfer?’
He frowned, but only for a second. ‘Aye,’ he exclaimed, as if he was pleased to come up with an answer we’d like. ‘He’s a pal of Archie’s. They were at the school thegither.’
‘Ever met him?’
‘Once or twice. He’s no around all that much; he works on the rigs.’
‘What sort of a man is he?’
‘A clever bastard.’ Wyllie’s summation was instant. ‘He’s got a good job there, on the technical side, he told me. Likes a drink, though. They’re no’ allowed any when they’re away, but he makes up for it when he comes back.’
‘Is he aggressive on it?’ I asked.
‘No, he’s different. He gets quiet and gets a nasty look about him.’
Alison took over again. ‘We want to ask you about a couple of days during the week before last. The Wednesday and the Thursday. Can you remember what Archie Weir was up to on those days?’